


good weather and duck dicks

by mido



Category: SINoALICE (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, girls that don't know how to communicate but still like each other, vague references to chronic and mental illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27481375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mido/pseuds/mido
Summary: Two girls and a lovely spring day.
Relationships: Cinderella/Little Mermaid (SINoAlice)
Kudos: 9





	good weather and duck dicks

**Author's Note:**

> i didnt count that gift fic as my 100th work bc its a gift fic so this one is the official 100th work
> 
> they were such dykes in the halloween event join me in this hole

It's a beautiful day outside.

It's a beautiful day outside, and Cindy is still asleep, hair poking out at odd angles from the loose braid Ariane had painstakingly weaved it into before they went to bed. Her mane is dark, muted grey in the sliver of light seeping through the blackout curtains that Ariane needs to sleep, and her cheek is pushed against the pillow, a line of drool dripping from her open mouth. She isn't snoring, at least; she only does about a quarter of the time, and she always gracelessly takes the couch when she inevitably wakes her girlfriend with her elephant-esque breaths. It's not that Ariane likes to sleep without her, but she's an extremely light sleeper, and it's unbelievably difficult for her to get a good night's rest to begin with, and Cindy understands. She'll bitch and moan about a crick in her neck in the morning, but she'll still tuck Ariane's hair behind her ear and kiss her where her jaw meets her neck with forgiveness.

Ariane sighs, and peels off the boxer shorts she's unsure are hers or Cindy's. Probably both-- she's worn them to bed before, but Cindy's probably the one who bought them. It'd been warm last night, and Ariane already doesn't like the feeling of clothes when she's in bed, so she'd slept in the nude from the waist up. Cindy slept with a tank top on, her nipples soft against the fabric when Ariane had rested her hand on one when she'd woken up, unsure which side the heart was on but making an effort anyway. She would've squeezed it for good measure, but Cindy was asleep, and Ariane still doesn't trust herself enough to listen to her girlfriend's declarations that  _ i'd be into somno, i just haven't tried it yet. _ She'd retreated back to her side of the bed and pulled back the covers carefully to escape. 

By the time Cindy rouses, that same stream of light having grown to a stripe bright enough to make her scrunch up her eyelids and blink awake, Ariane is already dressed, threading a pair of small silver hoops through her earlobes. "What time'ssit?" She groans, grasping at Ariane's side of the bed in an attempt to locate girlfriend, pushing herself up on her elbows when said warm body is nowhere to be found, the sheets holding nothing but a faint heat from when she'd laid there earlier. "Ten-thirty." Ariane says, pointedly ignoring her phone that says eleven fifteen. She doesn't want Cindy to think she was waiting on her. Her girlfriend smiles, all teeth and lips with a cold sore at the corner. "What're you all done up for?" 

Ariane snaps her small jewelry box shut with more force than necessary. "It's a beautiful day outside." She mutters, fiddling with the ring on her middle finger. "We should go on a date."

Cindy yawns, sitting up fully. "You just want to feed those fucking ducks." She laughs. "I'm in as long as I don't have to pay for your pellets." Ariane shoots her a look, and she just winks. 

When Cindy dresses herself, she always does so with the least amount of effort involved. Ariane prides herself on her appearance, on her black hair hanging at her shoulders and barely curled at the ends, her bangs straight and prim, her blouse free of wrinkles and her shorts snipped of any fraying threads. Cindy is a maelstrom of whatever she's stolen from previous one night stands (or girlfriends, but Ariane has a hard time believing she'd tie herself down like that. She still has trouble believing she'd tied herself to her), mismatched garments from the clearance section at Forever 21, and thrift store finds. Her favorite accessory is a carved hairpin she'd found in the pocket of a suit jacket at Goodwill.

So Ariane isn't fazed when she steps out of the bedroom, wearing a flannel with holes along the seams at her hands and distressed black jeans with bleach stains splattered across the fabric. It's topped off by fuzzy orange socks. Ariane tries not to preen when she glimpses the nondescript silicone band on Cindy's right hand. 

"Do my hair." Cindy murmurs into her neck from behind her, her hands resting on Ariane's waist as the latter refills her pill case. She doesn’t answer at first, focused on counting out three of the little white tablets and one of the blue and yellow capsules to add to the others. “Annieee.” Her girlfriend whines, pawing at her stomach beneath her blouse. She pops only two of the white tablets in her mouth and washes them down with the lukewarm coffee sitting on the counter.

“Sit on the couch.” She says in her own quiet tone, and Cindy plants a kiss on her neck before going to sit cross-legged with her back to Ariane, who’s followed her to their living room. She takes a handful of the hair on Cindy’s scalp and sets about a French braid, one that’ll inevitably loosen within an hour, because Ariane’s hands have never been steady enough to pull it tight enough. She always worries she’s hurting Cindy, and even when her girlfriend laughs it off, saying  _ i kinda like it when you pull my hair, actually, _ she can’t help the tremble in her fingers. Her hands shake as they always do when she tucks a lock of lavender hair behind another, but she powers through it, resigned to being Cindy’s personal stylist.

They decide to go out for breakfast (or brunch at this point), and Cindy doesn’t miss that Ariane’s looped a surgical mask over the bottom half of her face, pinching the metal band over her nose. “I’m fine.” She insists, inaudibly vehement, but Cindy brushes her off, tangling her fingers with Ariane’s and locking the door behind them. She swings their arms as they walk to the shopping district.

There are too many people that Ariane can see through the glass windows of her favorite cafe, but Cindy seems intent on her having the parfait she loves but loathes the caloric value of, so she just twists her hands together in front of her as she stands to the side and lets her girlfriend lead her to a table once she’s done casually threatening the waiter. One of the only available tables is a small two-seater near the coffee bar, and Ariane  _ really _ really hopes she can suppress her trembling enough so that Cindy won’t notice, or will think it’s just her usual shakiness. It’s not that she’s scared (she can take care of herself just fine, and in the worst case scenario Cindy is a beast in hand to hand combat), but there’s something wrong with the nerves in her hands, the doctor had told her once upon a time. The signals they receive resonate too much, and keep her in a constant state of motion. When she gets really stressed, she tends to rock back and forth, as if calmed by the movement itself. 

Ariane isn’t stressed. It’s just, it’s not  _ loud _ inside the cafe per se, but her hearing always likens to having water stuck in the pipes there, so she has to lean forward slightly and strain her ears to hear what Cindy is saying. She can’t feel the beautiful weather outside in here either, and she wishes they’d just gone to feed the ducks and went home, or got boba on the way there. 

The parfait of her choice (strawberry yogurt with mango linzer cookies and kiwi slices, plus whipped cream and pomegranate seeds) is set in front of her, and Ariane is forced to confront that she hasn’t been listening to anything Cindy was saying. She picks up her spoon gingerly, and under her girlfriend’s close gaze she pulls her mask down to her chin, and takes a small bite. When she looks up, she realizes Cindy has only ordered a foamless latte. “Aren’t you hungry?” She inquires, with all the tact of a bull in a china shop. Cindy raises an eyebrow at her. “Not feeling like anything other than caffeine right now.” She admits, swirling her stirrer in her cup. “That’s your favorite, right?”

Ariane can’t help it-- she turns a little pink at that. She digs her spoon in and gets a bite of a piece of cookie, yogurt, and pomegranate seeds all at once in lieu of an answer. Something tells her Cindy doesn’t need one. The silver band on her finger feels heavy with heat; she stamps down her manners and doesn’t bother to wipe her face on her napkin.

The duck pond is graciously empty of everyone except its inhabitants, and despite her bitching Cindy drops four quarters in Ariane’s palms for food pellets. “Go wild on the fuckers.” She snorts. Ariane tosses them into the water one by one, particularly enamored with one of the males who tries to gather as many of the pellets as he can before any of the other ducks can reach them. “Please share.” Ariane calls out to him, and pelts him in the face. Cindy laughs from where she’s leaning against the edge of the bridge they’re on, one elbow propped up on the wooden railing. Ariane glares at her. “Don’t laugh.” She admonishes.

After the pellets in her hands have been exhausted, they stand their for a moment, leaning out over the edge of the railing and looking out at the pond and the greenery around it. The sun sits high in the sky, right around the marker that says  _ it’s one pm, you all better be awake by now, _ and its rays fall gracefully over the crown of Cindy’s head, casting a ballet dancer spotlight down her back. “I thought you were gonna freak out back at the parfait place.” Cindy mentions offhandedly, flicking a fly off her sleeve. Ariane glances at her out of the corner of her eye; she doesn’t look mad, just bored. “I didn’t.” She says.

“Yeah.” Cindy agrees, and turns to rest her cheek against her palm. Ariane turns to look at her. “What?” She asks, just as Cindy’s finger comes to unhook her mask off one of her ears. She barely flushes at the contact-- Cindy does as Cindy wants, she’s found. “Is there yogurt on my face?” 

Her girlfriend smiles at her, teeth gleaming like a wolf, yet Ariane feels strangely comforted by the predatory expression. “Nah.” She reaches over to cup Ariane’s cheek in her palm, thumbing over the area below her eye. “You’re jus’ pretty.” 

Ariane faintly allows herself a semblance of a grin, and it makes Cindy’s lips pull as far as they can, more like baring her teeth at prey rather than smiling. “That’s good.” She murmurs, leaning into Cindy’s touch slightly. “You don’t like ugly things.” 

The other barks out a laugh. “Damn right.” She drops her hand, and points to the male duck that Ariane had been annoyed at before. “Did you know they have corkscrew dicks? They’re like, five feet long.”

Ariane loops her mask back on her ear, and smiles to herself this time, hidden from view. “Sounds like a lot of baggage.” Is what she jokes, and Cindy’s uncivilized snort is worth the poor humor. 

**Author's Note:**

> also like neither of them are cis i just didnt feel like elaborating here. mermy chronic illness agenda


End file.
